Taking Flight
by I am that Writer
Summary: "Come," she says. I shake my head. "I can't . . . I'm not ready." My mother looks disappointed. "Beatrice. I thought you were braver than that." Slowly, she reaches out to touch the birds flying on my collarbone. And I know she understands what they represent—my family and my freedom. My Divergence has finally freed me—but oh, what a cost I've had to pay for it. Allegiant spoilers.


**My first Divergent fanfiction!**

**It starts right after the end of Chapter 50 in _Allegiant_ (when Tris died). Enjoy.**

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My mother's arms are wrapped around me, feathery and light. Her whole body seems to envelope my wounded, battered one.

She holds me for a moment, her hands softly brushing over my back, then gently pushes me away from her so she can look at me.

She smiles. "Come, Beatrice." She holds out her hand. I stare at her fingers, wispy and white. I glance up, uncertainly, into her pale, translucent face. I can still make out her bright green eyes under the cloudy white veil that seems to cover her whole body, like a thin layer of dust. She nods her head in encouragement.

I reach out and grasp her hand.

She pulls me toward her, slowly, and as she does, I feel a tugging sensation, pulling me in the opposite direction. I gasp at a quick fluttering in my chest, like a bird trapped in a cage. Then, just as quickly, it disappears, and I see a trail of red mist float out in front of me, which promptly gets whisked away by an invisible wind. I suddenly feel strangely unemotional. My previous concerns about death have left me.

I know what the red mist was.

It was my heart, leaving me.

My mother leads me out of the vestibule in the Weapons Chamber. David is standing in the middle of the room, legs fixed in a stance, his body in a firm position, arms outstretched, pointing a gun at the ground . . . where I am surprised to see myself, lying on the floor, bloody, my face ashen-white.

I am confused by this. I give my mother a questioning look, and she gestures at my body. I glance down at my torso and legs and feet to see that a second layer of myself, a floaty, see-through thing, seems to have peeled itself off of my old body. This one is brand-new. My skin and clothes are clean. There are no bullet wounds or blood coating my arms, chest, and back, and my feet seem to be hovering a foot above the ground.

I glance back at David. He appears to be frozen. His arms are lifted in the same position, holding the gun steady, his eyebrows creased angrily. He looks like he hasn't moved in a very long time. He appears to have been frozen that way for hundreds of years.

In fact, the whole atmosphere feels still surrounding me and mother, the air so silent a ringing is sounding in my ears. Or maybe that's just the bullets I can still hear, whizzing by my head.

It feels alarmingly as if time itself has frozen. The only thing I can be certain of is my mother's wispy fingers in mine, gently pulling me along.

We float through the Lab, toward the exit: an open door on the far side of the room. The death serum still lingers in small black clouds in the air. People lie wounded, passed out, or standing upright, aiming their weapons, ready to fire. I turn as we pass by a pair of guards, and notice bullets to the side of my head, frozen midair.

We drift steadily out of the Bureau. The halls are mostly empty, but occasionally we pass people frozen in position, like statues on display. Their eyes stare motionlessly ahead.

For a long time I simply observe the surroundings we drift by. I'm relieved by the thought that we're traveling farther and farther away from my dead body, leaking blood on the ground, my sticky blond hair matted to my face, chopped short after I decided to cut it.

I can still hear Tobias's words in my head, after he saw my new haircut for the first time: _I like your hair that way._

We are outside now. Suddenly, with nature bursting on every side of me, I seem to somewhat recall emotions as the emptiness in my chest wrenches. It hurts so bad I gasp, because I know my heart should be in that empty space—my living, beating, breathing thing. I feel like a large piece of me has been cut out. A sob catches in my throat, but I find I'm unable to make a sound. My mother drags me past an old, abandoned ferris wheel, and I am reminded of the one in Dauntless.

I recall Tobias and I climbing it, where I learned his first fear, and—_oh, Tobias!_ I feel anguish welling up stronger in me, a tugging sensation in that empty spot in my chest. Silent sobs begin to wrack my body, tears spilling down my cheeks, all the sounds strangely muffled.

If my mother knows that I'm crying, she doesn't acknowledge it—but she gives my hand a squeeze without looking back, light as a feather, and I think she can relate to my pain.

We float by the huge, rusted metal stands of the ferris wheel, and I reach out a hand as though to touch it, even when I know I can't. It's in a different world than me, now.

The tears continue to fall silently, sliding down my cheeks, my wobbling, shaking lips, to gather in puddles on my chin. My shoulders are shaking violently.

I close my eyes and lower my head, letting my mother lead me on like she always used to do when I was a child in Abnegation.

I want to ask her _why_.

_Why_ didn't she ever tell me she had come from the outside, that she'd grown up in a completely different world than me? _Why_ did I have to be so, so completely stupid, so selflessly brave, one last time? I managed to live through the death serum without inoculating myself against it, my Divergence saving me, but it was all for nothing. I don't even know for sure if I stopped the memory serum from entering Chicago and wiping thousands of innocent minds.

I don't know. I don't know.

And Tobias. I don't know where he is, if he's all right.

If he'll _be_ all right without me.

I think of our sweet last words together, before we parted ways, the tender kiss we shared; and, not so long ago, a bed we lay in together, in a tangle of words whispered lovingly and sweaty limbs.

_Forgive me._

Time ceases to exist. In a few minutes, or hours, I notice the scenery has changed around us. We are in an empty wasteland, long past the borders of the Bureau.

My mother finally stops and turns to face me, taking my face in her hands. She gives me a smile and lifts my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze. I stare straight into her green eyes, sniffing back snot and tears. My eyes are most likely bloodshot and swollen. My backs stoops, my shoulders hanging heavy. The loss of my boyfriend and my friends and my world—my life—are weighing down on me.

My mother speaks in a soft, silvery voice "Come," she says, her lips barely moving. I feel a soft puff of air hit my cheek.

I shake my head, trying to convey how much I already miss the beating of my heart. "I . . . I can't. I'm not ready."

My mother gazes deeply into my eyes. She almost looks disappointed.

"Beatrice. I thought you were braver than that," she says. Slowly, she reaches out and gently touches my collarbone, and the three birds flying there, tattooed in black ink. And I know she understands what they represent—my family, and my freedom.

My Divergence has finally freed me—but oh, what a cost I've had to pay for it.

My mother touches each bird in turn, and a small shiver runs through me as I'm reminded of another time, when Tobias and I fled on a train, and sat hidden together in the dark, in the back of a boxcar, and he leaned down to kiss each of my tattoos.

My mother drops her hand and studies my tear-stained face. She conveys with her eyes what she wants me to understand.

I can be like one of my ravens. I just have to strong enough.

If I can gather enough courage, I can spread my wings and take flight, preparing to explore the unknown of beyond.

I can be free, finally completely rid of the restricting feeling that has guarded me my whole life.

If I choose to.

If I can be brave enough.

My eyes flicker into the distance, where the sun is setting. It casts golden rays over all the earth, turning the hard, dirt-cracked ground underneath my feet a bright orange color. Boulders rising up through the ground begin to throw shadows behind them.

If I agree to go with my mother, I can be free of factions and regulations. I will be like one of the birds Tori tattooed on my collarbone.

I will probably get to _see_ Tori where I'm going.

Still . . .

I weigh my options in my head, like two scales that come out almost perfectly balanced.

The freedom I've fought so hard for, against the sapphire-dark eyes and crooked nose, and strong, tattooed back.

I feel a new, wet film coat my eyes, washing away the old tears.

_I'm sorry._

I can't have died for nothing.

_I wouldn't have chosen for it to end like this._

I bite my lip. I _can't_ refuse my mother's offer and spend the rest of eternity wandering a frozen earth as a ghost, searching for a boy with short, dark-brown hair and strikingly dark eyes. It won't be long before I become crazy and as withered as this wasteland.

_I'd give anything to be back with you right now._

I close my eyes. A silent tear drips down my cheek.

I take a deep breath and open my eyes, facing my mother and her outstretched hand. I stare at it, at the grasp of freedom, and the glimpse at the mysterious unknown.

I feel a shiver of Dauntless thrill creep back in me. This could be exciting.

I can't help crying as I take one last look at my city in the distance, then face my mother again, managing to smile through my tears.

I take her hand, and the world dissolves into ink.

I am a bird.

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**Please review! Let me know if you think I should write more Divergent stories. I have a few ideas in mind.**


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